brothers and one sister, all living in Philadelphia and all married at
this time. They thought she had done very well in her marriage.

It could not be said that she had wildly loved Mr. Semple at any time.
Although she had cheerfully married him, he was not the kind of man who
could arouse a notable passion in any woman. He was practical, methodic,
orderly. His shoe store was a good one--well-stocked with styles
reflecting the current tastes and a model of cleanliness and what one
might term pleasing brightness. He loved to talk, when he talked at
all, of shoe manufacturing, the development of lasts and styles. The
ready-made shoe--machine-made to a certain extent--was just coming into
its own slowly, and outside of these, supplies of which he kept, he
employed bench-making shoemakers, satisfying his customers with personal
measurements and making the shoes to order.

Mrs. Semple read a little--not much. She had a habit of sitting and
apparently brooding reflectively at times, but it was not based on any
deep thought. She had that curious beauty of body, though, that made her
somewhat like a figure on an antique vase, or out of a Greek chorus. It
was in this light, unquestionably, that Cowperwood saw her, for from the
beginning he could not keep his eyes off her. In a way, she was aware
of this but she did not attach any significance to it. Thoroughly
conventional, satisfied now that her life was bound permanently
with that of her husband, she had settled down to a staid and quiet
existence.

At first, when Frank called, she did not have much to say. She was
gracious, but the burden of conversation fell on her husband. Cowperwood
watched the varying expression of her face from time to time, and if she
had been at all psychic she must have felt something. Fortunately she